


Leave me to dream

by brokxnharry



Series: I think I'm coming undone [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Derek Comes Back, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e06 Motel California, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Panic Attacks, Post Hale Fire, Post-Episode: s03e06 Motel California, Stiles deserves better, Temporary Character Death, melissa is the best mum, so does Derek, sterek, the sheriff is the best dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 05:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11503203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokxnharry/pseuds/brokxnharry
Summary: Stiles thought Derek was dead. He.. he saw him die, watched him fade. So how was he there now, holding onto him like he mattered? Like things haven't been royally fucked up without him there?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Dream by Imagine dragons.  
> Lets not forget this is part of a series, so there were things leading up to this, and there are things that are going to happen after, this isn't the whole story.  
> Also, this isn't the end of the argument/discussion, so don't worry, I won't leave you hanging :)  
> I don't any of the characters or the main storyline.   
> Enjoy and let me know what you think please!

It took Stiles another week to finally be allowed to go home, with the orders to change the bandages whenever he could, not get any water on his burns so that the skin would be able to heal, and remain sleeping on his stomach or sides but not on his back quite yet.

Lydia was his first visitor. She brought him the schoolwork he'd missed and lots of stories. She stayed with him until he'd fallen asleep, and they never spoke of Scott, or what had happened, although they were both aching for reassurance, for comfort.

Isaac and Boyd came around with gratitude in their voices, and a hesitant smile on their faces. They tried taking some of his pain, but he didn't allow them much. He said the meds were working, and they believed him, despite the stink of something else in the air.

Melissa was the last visitor of the night. She'd brought him the supplies of medications he'd need, checking his vitals just in case, before she laid in bed with him, where Scott normally would, running her fingers through his hair, and just- touching him really. Stiles didn't know if it was for her own sake or for his. He fell asleep again feeling her lips on his cheek, and her whisper that she loved him. He thought he said something like **_"love you too, mum"_**. He didn't know if he'd imagined the choking sound that had followed, or if it had come out of her. He was just too tired.

It was odd, how Stiles' legs were always hot, burning with something that would never really be put out. He wasn't awake for it, wasn't conscious enough to feel the fire stripping away at him, but even with a concussion and a barely held together head, he could feel the heat. The suffocating warmth. The pealing of something that he couldn't feel enough for it to hurt.

He was shivering, covered in a layer of sweat, or something. He wasn't quite sure. Then there were hands around him. Hands that were always warm regardless of the weather. That were covered in harsh, torn apart skin, although, they'd never been anything but kind. Well, for the most part. Hands that he'd last seen drenched in blood, with claws coming out of them, and never going back in.

His eyebrows furrowed, body suddenly needing to escape. Needing him to get out. Out of his burned skin. Out of this room, that smelled of something, of **_someone_**. Out of this godforsaken town that was tearing at him, where nothing good ever happened, where people always left. Always died. Or lived, wishing they would.

Stiles hadn't been dreaming. He thought it was probably because of the meds. Maybe it was his mind's attempts at folding all that had happened away, erasing all the reds and oranges and yellows from the chambers back there, painting it all black. It was dark and quiet and lonely. Until it wasn't.

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking away the dull ache behind them, willing the spinning inside his head to just- stop. It was blurry, like there was a translucent layer of something covering his eyes. And no matter how hard he tried, no matter how long he closed his eyes before opening them again, the shadow by his nightstand wouldn't go away.

" Oh fuck, now I'm losing my mind too." He tried to turn his head away, to stare at his board instead, but there were things still hitting against his skull, as if wanting out, and he had to stop midway, to breathe, and swallow the bile crawling up his throat.

" Stiles," His face fell into his pillow, and he tried to breathe. He did. But the pillow smelled of the disinfectant they used to clean his wound and his blanket slid too far down for him to hide beneath and that sound- that voice, wouldn't stop ringing in his head. Echoing. Calling him in. Calling him away.

He opened his mouth, wanting to suck air in, or scream for his dad, for someone- anyone, to come wake him up from this fucking dream or hallucination or whatever the hell he was trapped in. But he felt a heartbeat pounding in his ears and it was loud and clear and **_alive_**. How could this be? Why was this happening? Fuck, why did it have to be **_him_** , that came to him in a dream?

" It's me, Stiles."

Stiles shook his head, although it hurt, he thought it'd jumble things up inside, bringing a different image to the front, a different thread of thought to cling to. Anything other than this. Other than him.

" I saw you. Fuck. I saw them throw you over the- and you- you weren't responsive. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. Fuck, I need to wake up. Wake up, Stiles. Wake up."

Derek sighed. Or that thread of Stiles' imagination did. That mirage of the man that Stiles wanted so desperately to hold onto. Wanted to keep safe. To keep near. But like all mirages, it faded. And with it went another bit of Stiles' composure. Of his sanity. Of his will to live.

" This is not a dream. Stiles. It's me. I'm here. I'm okay. Just breathe. I'll explain everything. Just breathe for me."

Stiles tried. He really did. But his scent was filling him up with something he hadn't allowed himself to feel for so long now, and there was no more space for air. There was nothing in Stiles' chest, nothing in him at all, yet he felt like he was filled to the brim, and he was going to let something slip. Something like **_I really thought I could have loved you_** , or **_I buried something of yours in the ground just to have a place where I can find you_** , **_where I can visit you_** , **_just to know where you are_** , or, or, **_fuck_**.

" Breathe, Stiles. Breathe." His voice continued to pull him through all those dark alleys in his mind of claws and blood and roars and alphas. So many alphas. There were just too many of them. And Derek had just- he'd just.. died.

Stiles heard something that sounded like a groan, like a masked plea, before hands slowly moved his head so that he was back to facing the window, which was somehow opened, although Stiles was certain his dad had closed it, in fear of Stiles catching a cold. As if that was a legitimate worry of theirs now. Stiles would have laughed, if he wasn't so close to crying.

Stiles stopped. He stopped trying to will the shapes forming behind his eyes away, because the more he squeezed his eyes shut, the more those figures shaped into something he'd missed terribly, something he'd once thought he could love.  He breathed in, exhaling shakily, before he opened his eyes. It wasn't gradual. It was all at once. And there he was. Derek was bent on his knees, hands somewhere around Stiles but no longer touching, eyes as bright as Stiles had remembered them to be, and fuck.

" You're alive." It wasn't really a question, but Derek still nodded. Something similar to a smile forming on his lips. Could Derek do that? Smile at Stiles like that?

" I'm alive."

Stiles wanted to look inside himself, to find the feeling that was supposed to be overshadowing all else. He wanted to grasp at anything before it slipped away, rushed through the vortex of blind emotions that seemed to be starting within him. He wanted to know if his heart was fastening with distress, or if it was relief. He wanted to know if the pulsing in his head was him trying to remember how it felt to have Derek around, or if it was him, trying to erase all traces of him.

" How did that happen?" Stiles hated how his voice cracked. How Derek's eyes flashed with something that looked like guilt. Like hesitancy.

" I was hurt. It took a long time for everything to heal, for me to feel like myself again, because those wounds were inflicted by Alphas. Really strong ones too. So I had to hide away till I recuperated. And I did."

" You didn’t.. didn't think to let anyone know?" He felt betrayed. By Derek. By his body that was too weak to pull away from him. By the pack's senses that couldn't pick up on Derek and just- just give him hope, that he might have still been somewhere out there.

It wasn't even about the something he felt for Derek. Wasn't about how his heart felt like it was carved out, when he saw him laying there, blood coming out of his mouth and head and- all those holes, all those cracks. It was about the loss of a person that was supposed to be in Stiles' life, in all of their lives. Derek was a friend, if nothing else. Someone who'd saved his life regardless of how irritated he seemed to be by it, by him. Someone he'd spent nights with, planning, sketching, thinking of things to do to save the people they both loved, save the town they both felt was home. It was about Stiles filing all those memories, all those thoughts of him, where he'd once filed away those of his mother. At the place where he kept everything he'd ever lost. The place he went to, whenever he was having one of those days, where he'd try to remember how it felt to not be this version of Stiles, to see where the hell it had all gone wrong and how, how he'd become this. Turned into this. Because Scott knew that; Peter bit him, turning him into a werewolf with super strength and heightened senses and fangs and claws and all that. But Stiles just.. he just turned from a human being, to a shittier one of those.

And he didn't want to blame this on Derek, but he did. How dare he leave him like that? How dare he remind him of all the people that had left before? Of the loss that had tipped his life over? It had never gone back since.

" I was of no use to any of you, Stiles. Not when I was in that bad of a shape. And I thought we could use the fact that they thought I was dead to our advantage." Derek was fetching for excuses now. Stiles could see it, even he didn't fully believe in what he was saying.  

" No, no. **_They_** didn't think you were dead. **_We_** thought you were dead." Stiles tried to pull away, tried to put distance between them because Derek was suffocating him, and things were caving inside him, collapsing on top of that hole in his chest that spelled out Derek's name, and that hole took and took, and never stopped taking.

Derek stood to his feet, eyebrows furrowed, like he couldn't understand Stiles' reaction or reasoning. And Stiles wondered what he was doing wrong, wondered if he could ever make him understand, if it was even worth it at all.

" I didn't want to endanger you further. I didn't want to-"

" Stop. Just fucking stop, Derek. You- God. I get that you have.. baggage. We all do, trust me, we do. You have this complex where you feel like you don't matter and everyone will eventually leave and all that shit. Fine. Fair enough. But even with all that shit, you always put us first. Sometimes, even when it was stupid, and reckless, and uncalled for. That thing inside you, made you feel like we were worth more than you. But now you just, you just left? That's so fucking selfish, Derek. Even for you that's just, another level of fucked up. We watched you die. Scott was so, so guilty, he wouldn't let himself heal. He couldn't fucking **_heal_** , Derek. And that was before his-"

He couldn't say it. Couldn't form that word. Couldn't even think it. Scott's name never should have been put in the same sentence as that. Stiles swallowed past the lump in his throat, breathing around the bitterness, through the love that was so strong, it almost turned to hate.

" Before the fire. Your whole pack almost died that night. I," Derek winced, eyebrows furrowing, eyes falling closed, and when they opened again, Stiles could almost see the red of the fire, fading away into his greenish, greyish, whatever the hell his eyes chose to color themselves then.

" I just don't understand how you could just, do that. To us." **_To me_** , almost slipped out. Stiles shook his head.

" I didn't know, Stiles. Any of it. But even if I did, even if I'd told you I was still alive, it- it wouldn't have made a difference." Because Derek could never really stop shitty things from happening to those he cared for. He couldn't stop the fire from taking away his family. Couldn't stop Peter from taking away the only family he had left. And he wouldn't have been able to stop the fire from eating at Stiles. And just, just the thought of that, made him want to throw his heart right up.

" Yeah, well. At least you would have tried. At least you would have given us that." Stiles put all the energy he had left in him, all the fight, in turning his head away from the window, away from Derek. He then gave it some more, to choke down that sob, that cry for someone who'd never understand, who had supernatural senses when it came to a lot of things, but even this, was too much for him to grasp.

" Stiles," Derek's hand almost touched Stiles again. And this time, he flinched away, but the movement stirred something inside him. Something cracked open, releasing an honest to god sob.

" Fuck, Stiles, I'm sorry, okay? I'm **_sorry_**. I just-" _Didn't know you'd need me. Didn't know it'd matter. Didn't know all of this would happen. Thought it'd be better for you. Thought it'd be safer. Had to stop falling. Falling onto that staircase. Falling for you. Falling for this absurd idea of a future with no psychotic murderers and no danger and no death. Falling for the possibility that maybe I deserve this; I deserve someone like you. Had to stop it all._

" I slept with someone. That's how I kicked-started the healing. I slept with someone else."

There it was. The knife that he'd stabbed right through Stiles' chest, that very first time, when he was kept in a cell because Stiles thought he'd had it all figured out when he couldn't even begin to understand any of it, when Stiles came all proud and arrogant. Derek had told him then, that he ruined everything he touched, that he kept meddling in other people's business instead of focusing on fixing his own fucking life, and why couldn't he just be a fucking normal kid, just be a son or a friend or a student or whatever the hell he needed to be, instead of always trying to be something else, something more, something that he'd never be able to become. And it had hurt. Like all hell. Because Stiles' face crumbled, literally fell upon itself, and Derek didn't really mean it. Or at least, didn't mean to say it the way he did, but he was in fucking prison, for killing his own sister, because Stiles gave himself the right, to say that about him, and dammit, he was entitled to a bit of blind, thoughtless, rage. Stiles had had it coming.

But now, he was twisting that knife, dragging it through Stiles' gut. He was coming for blood, for gore, for Stiles giving up on him, once and for all. He could almost smell it in the air; the familiar scent of surrender, of departure, of unreasonable loss.

He didn't know why he'd said _else_ , when he'd never slept with Stiles. Hell, he'd never gotten anywhere near him, except in life threatening situations where one of them was almost dying, if not both. And he'd probably never get the chance to, not that he wanted it or anything, but Derek thought it'd have been nice. To at least have the option, the possibility.

" Stiles?"

" Can you wake my dad up for me? And get the hell out of here?"

" Is that what you want?"

Stiles wanted the alpha pack to not be here. He wanted them to not have hurt Derek. Or Scott. He wanted to not have gone on that stupid game. To not have left Scott alone that night. To not have dragged Scott with him into the woods at the first place.

Stiles wanted his mother to be here and his father to be happy. He wanted to keep Kate away from Derek. To at least be enough of a reason for Derek to stay. He wanted to not be ripped apart from the inside out by the thought of someone else helping Derek heal. He wanted to not.. feel whatever the hell he felt for Derek. To not be frightened by the thought that there could be something there, just like there once had been something for Lydia, why did it matter so much this time? What difference did it fucking make?

He wanted to be strong enough to beat the living hell out of Derek because no, he didn't deserve that from him. No, they weren't a thing, they were barely friends, but Derek must have known better. Must have sensed more. And Stiles didn't deserve to have his heart broken for that.

He wanted to pull Derek in and tell him that it was somehow okay, even though it wasn't. Nowhere close actually. Stiles thought it probably never would be. But when has it ever mattered what Stiles wanted anyway?

So he didn't do any of that. Didn't say any of it either. He just breathed, because Derek couldn't hear what was breaking inside him, couldn't smell the ache, the disappointment, the need.

" Yeah. I don't want anything to do with you."

Here it came. The tearing of another paper out of his book. Another page that he'd have to throw away, to burn- or no, not burn, he could no longer say that about Stiles, could no longer think it. But. It would be another page he'd do his best not to think about, not to talk about, to pretend like it had never been there at all, like he couldn't still see the shreds of what was left of it. The place where it could have been, would have stayed.

Stiles thought he'd nailed it, when Derek's steps walked away, down the stairs. When Stiles' dad came into his room, asking why Derek was in his house in the middle of the night, and why he looked like he could wolf out any second. And it all came pouring right out of Stiles.

" Dad. Dad, I- help me move. Turn me onto my side. Dad."

" What? But the doctors said-"

" Dad, I can't breathe. Fuck, please dad. I need to breathe. I can't- I- I can't."

The sheriff moved immediately, circling his arms around his son, turning him onto his side, with a hand on his chest, under which, Stiles' heart almost beat right out of his ribcage.

" Hey, hey. I'm here, Stiles. I've got you, son. Just do it like me. You know the drill." The sheriff started doing the breathing exercises that Melissa had taught him, back when Stiles was still a child, grieving his mother's loss and not understanding why it took his breath away. Every single time.

Stiles held on. Both hands holding onto his father's arm, eyes squeezed shut, to make it easier to finally slip away, or maybe it was to not see the open window where Derek no longer stood, would no longer come through.

" Okay, you're okay, son. You're okay."

" Dad," Stiles whimpered. Cried. Begged. For a release that his dad couldn't possibly offer. But the sheriff adjusted how he sat, resting his forehead against Stiles' now, filling Stiles up with the scent of home, instead of gore and loss and unrequited love.

Stiles nodded against his dad's head, in reassurance, because he knew how helpless his dad always felt when he had a panic attack. How terrified he was, because what if this was the one that would wipe him out, take him away too.

" Try to get some sleep, Stiles. I'm right here. Don't worry. You're okay." And Stiles did. With his dad's arms around him, so that his body wouldn't fall onto his back, and the window opened, for air to come in. Or maybe something else.


	2. Be there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been... awkward, between Stiles and Allison, since the killing attempts and the psychotic grandfather, but she was there, and so was he, and maybe they needed one another a little.

When Stiles woke up, his dad helped change his bandages, washing him as best as he could, before announcing that Allison was here with her father. Had been all morning, waiting for him.

And that was how Stiles had his breakfast; with Allison sitting by his desk, nipping at her sandwich, and pillows supporting his back instead of his dad's arms, because he had to keep Chris' company.

Stiles would admit, it'd been slightly awkward between Allison and him, since the whole psychopath grandfather kidnapping him and his friends and also brainwashing her into killing them all thing, but Allison was a nice girl, although, she'd taken his best friend from him –slightly, a bit, not too much though-, Scott always seemed happy with her, and that was all Stiles had ever wanted for his friend.

" So.. how are you feeling? What are the doctors saying?" Allison asked, putting her sandwich down, giving up.

" Just take the meds, not get water anywhere near anything, and I should be good. Yeah." Stiles nodded, smiling to ease her discomfort. His as well.

" That's- that's great, Stiles. So, you're not in much pain, I hope?"

" Not going to lie, the deep fried ass emotionally wounded me, but other than that, the painkillers do wonders for the rest of it." Allison startled, eyes wide, mouth opened a gape for only a few seconds, before she burst into laughter, shaking her head because of course Stiles would seek out humor to ease the blow of the situation, of course he'd find something to laugh about.

" I mean, I definitely focused all my efforts while trying to put the fire out, on saving the ass, Stiles. It had always been one of your most valuable assets."

" Right? I always knew you were a smart one, Allison. You get it." Allison laughed again, and so did Stiles. This was surprisingly nice. Easy.

" So what do you **_really_** want to talk about?  Because I'm sure you didn't drag your father all the way over here just to talk about my ass." Her eyes dimmed a bit, something darker setting in, but Stiles smiled, welcoming, understanding.

" Scott." She said his name in that way, like she wasn't supposed to speak it out loud, like it was inappropriate somehow, hurtful.

" I haven't seen him since he came by the hospital and just snapped at me. I tried calling him, but.."

" He hasn't been answering my phone calls either. None of us, really. But I went to his house and he was passed out on their sidewalk, bloody, and. Apparently, he'd gone after the Alpha pack."

" Wait, alone?"

" Yeah. He's- I don't know what he's doing, Stiles, but he's just so messed up. He's going to get himself killed if we don't stop him. I love him. You know that, but, he's not letting me in. He keeps pushing and pushing and I- I almost lost him that night. Lost both of you. He fainted beside you and we couldn't stop the fire and- we didn't know what to **_do_** , Stiles. I still don't know what to do." She wiped at her eyes, shaking her head as if telling herself no, she wouldn't cry over this. She wouldn't collapse in front of Stiles who almost lost his best friend then almost died himself.

" I don't know how to help him either. When he came down to the hospital, he- he wouldn't even look at me. Wouldn't let me touch him. I don't blame him for this, Allison, how could I? All the werewolves were losing it that night, it wasn't even him. And he's not the one who started the fire. We just didn't throw it far enough and the wind moved it closer and. Shit just happens. I would never blame that on Scott. I would never use that against him. Or anyone, really. But he doesn't know who to blame if he can't blame himself. He doesn't know how to make sense of it otherwise. There had has to be a reason for all the shit that happens and almost always, that reason ends up being him. That's just who he is, and I know that, but man."

" I'm so scared, Stiles. So fucking terrified. It just.. it used to be easy, you know? I liked him, he liked me back. And that was just.. that. It didn't matter what he was or wasn't. Didn't matter where we went or how we spent the time we had together. And then it was werewolves and hunters and kanimas and- I guess, I don't know how to get back to that. I don't know if we ever can. If he still wants me." She bit down on her lips so desperately, Stiles thought she'd draw blood. He could see the tear drops reflecting the sunlight coming through the window, right onto her eyes, making them look so sad, so young and unknowing and helpless. 

" Come here, Allison, come closer." Stiles cleared his throat, trying to swallow away the lump in his throat, to make room for his voice to actually come out. Allison pushed Stiles' chair, until she was sitting right by his bed, smiling, and it was almost sadder than the tears still held back in her eyes.

" Scott loves you, okay? Scott has been in love with you for years now, and no kanimas or werewolves or hunters or even psychotic humans could ever lessen that. He never stopped. He never could." She cried then. A choking sound slipping past her, before she was trembling with cries that she didn't know how to stop. Stiles took her hands, pulling her closer, until she was off the chair, and into his embrace.

" I'm going to be honest with you. I don't know if any of us can get back to how we were used to be. We've just seen too much of this, lived through too much of the universe, and some of those things, are kind of irrevocable. But that doesn't mean that this love is any less than the last. Or that it always has to be this hard. But, I think, it'll always be a little hard. Harder than it needs to be, than it's supposed to be, even. But we're a lot tougher than we were meant to be as well. And we're going to be okay."

" So, you're going to help me?" Allison sounded cautiously hesitant, and it broke his heart a little, that she'd even doubt that at all.

" Of course, I will, what the hell?" Another cry went past her then, one that was louder than most, as she clung to him, just for a while. 

She ended up on the ground, by his bed, playing video games for him, since he couldn't sit up enough to be able to do it himself. So he taught her all the buttons to use and they went into an argument over players that she couldn't pronounce their names because apparently that was a big deal to Stiles, and not necessarily to her.

" So what about you? Any love-life updates?" She asked, tongue sticking out in concentration, as Stiles heard her losing, again.

" I swear to God, Allison," He went to pull the remote from her, but she leaned away, pressing all the buttons at the same time.

" I'm basically a half-cooked mummie, right now, how the hell am I meant to manage a love-life?" He rolled his eyes, although, there was no real annoyance behind it. He was mostly amused. 

" Oh come on, Stiles, I'm sure there's a niche porn market for that, so someone out there has to find this appealing."

" Allison," He gasped, " I didn't know you were such an expert when it comes to porn, I'll be sure to involve you next time I need something like that."

" Oh God, please, no." She mastered a horrified expression, putting her hands in the air in surrender, dropping the remote. Another game lost.

" Okay, that's it! Give me that." She laughed, allowing Stiles to take the remote, and turn off the screen so that he wouldn't have to watch her cost him any more points. He laid back, smiling without really meaning to, shaking his head because wow, what an unexpected friendship this was.

" Speaking of love-life, what's Derek's Camaro doing out there? Did Peter forget it here or something?"

" Wait, what? It's- it's parked out there?" His heart faltered, doing that thing it did, when it didn't know if it was breaking or mending.

" Aha, but no one is in it, I don't think." She shrugged, taking her sandwich back.

" Oh fuck. Fuck me." He put his arms over his eyes, wanting to somehow not exist.

" What, what is it?"

" So, as it turns out, Derek is alive."

" What the fuck?"

" Not just that, but he was badly injured and the healing was taking too long, so he slept with someone, to, you know, hurry it up."

" Oh, no, Stiles."

" Don't **_oh no_** , me. What the fuck? I don't care about his sex-life. I just- I'm pissed that he didn't think to tell anyone that he was alive. I mean, you saw Scott, guilt was eating him up, he couldn't even let himself heal. So fucking selfish. Fuck."

" Yeah, I saw Scott. But I also saw you."

" Now, what's that supposed to mean?"

" We all thought we lost Derek that day, but you have to admit, it was different for you."

His irritation began to wither away, his front of anger, cracking, as he let out a tired sigh, resting his head on his pillow, as if he could no longer lift it. He felt heavy and he allowed himself to.

" What do you mean?"

" Stiles, do you have feelings for Derek?" She looked comforting. Like he could tell her anything, could lie, or say the truth, and she'd take whatever he gave her, and try to somehow make it better for him. Make it feel okay.

Stiles thought he could lie. After all, she wasn't a werewolf. She wouldn't hear it in his heartbeat, wouldn't smell his weariness after. But he'd been lying for so long, he just, he wanted to tell **_someone_**. And if that someone happened to be his best friend's ex-girlfriend who wasn't really an ex but wasn't a current girlfriend either who'd almost tried to kill him **_and_** Derek and almost everyone else, and whose dad had almost killed his best friend, and her grandfather almost killed him, and- it didn't really matter. She was here now, when no one else was.

" I think I could have. Or would have. I think.. he's someone I could potentially feel something for. But I don't know what I'm feeling yet, and what he did.."

" Was not fair. I get it. But Stiles, you're always so considerate, so understanding and accepting of whatever it is that someone chooses to be. And Derek didn't choose to be the way he is or feel the way he does. You know how hard he had it, and it hasn't stopped. Probably never would. And sometimes, it can get too much. Sometimes, you don't know if it's worth it. If you, are worth it. And the fight can go right out of you and you can make stupid decisions because what the hell. And I think, that's what he did. Felt inadequate and weak and pathetic and figured, you deserve better. But he did come back, didn't he? And he came to you first, before anyone else, even his own betas. That counts for something, right?"

" Stop making sense. I hate it." He groaned, but then he nodded. He couldn't say it out loud quite yet.

" What about the other person he slept with? I could have-" Allison raised an eyebrow at that, although, it wasn't judgmental, just humorous.

" Could have what? Slept with him? Jesus Christ, Stiles, I know the whole alpha werewolf thing is a turn on for you, but come on, man. You can't jump into the man's bed. Besides, your dad would definitely shoot him dead. Probably without even needing any special help from anyone."

" Wow, what a visual you've just given me, Allison." She laughed, rising from her place on the floor, after finishing her sandwich. She leaned in, brushing Stiles' hair away from his face, running her fingers through it kindly, in what felt like gratitude, before she hugged him again. Stiles found himself wanting her to stay there, just like that, for a little bit longer.

" So, need anything before I head out? Comfortable and all?" He nodded, emotions lumping in his throat, he found himself slightly breathless.

" I think I might owe you an apology." She grimaced, discomfort replacing all that had previously been displayed on her features.

" What for?"

" You know. The basement. What happened before Jackson went away. Everything, really. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry." He took her fidgeting hand, simply holding it between his own.

" It's okay, what's a mild case of PTSD between friends anyway?" She sighed, eyes finally meeting Stiles', and they were still, as kind as ever, as forgiving as she'd hoped they would be. She almost cried again, but she didn't. She nodded, squeezing Stiles' hand, before detaching herself from him.

" Text me if you need anything. And let me know how it goes with D. Is it not ironic how D, also stands for dick? You learn something new everyday."

" Fuck off, Allison, oh my God." He laughed, hand somewhere over his face, to hide the heat he could feel rising up his cheeks. She walked towards the door, turning only to give a promising smile.

" Thank you, Allison. For saving my ass. Literally. And also, for everything else."

" You're welcome, Stiles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy and let me know what you think please!


	3. I don't have a choice (But I still choose you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek tells Stiles everything he's been too scared to admit to even himself. Well, almost everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the song Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars.  
> There's probably still another part to this series, if not more, so hang in there!  
> And let me know if there's anything specific you'd like to see, like a conversation between any of the characters or whatever really :)  
> Enjoy and let me know what you think.

Stiles thought of his mother. With all the medication bottles on his nightstand, and how the bandages seemed to be the only thing keeping his body from falling apart completely. It was quiet, except for his dad humming, something to help with the cooking that he'd always been terrible at. It reminded him of all the days she spent in the hospital, when he'd still try to cook for her, as if she could eat anything at all. Back then, his dad would be completely silent, though. He wouldn't have it in him, to make any sound. Probably because he hadn't trusted that sound to not be something resembling a scream.

Stiles suddenly wanted to tell his dad he loved him, that he was the best dad in the world, the best thing the universe had ever allowed him to keep. After all, he loved him back when he was a fidgeting ball of rebellious behavior and too many questions that his dad could never answer for him. He loved him even when it felt like all love had died, when she did. He loved him when he was called from school, barely having gotten any sleep at all after a long shift at work, because Stiles had had a panic attack at school and they hadn't known what to do with him. He loved him when he crashed his jeep –his mum's jeep- because he had no lasting attention span. Loved him when he knew he was lying to him about his werewolf best friend and his other friend that turned into a paralyzing lizard that was also controlled by a pissed at the world maniac. He even loved him when he finally learned the truth, about werewolves and kanimas and whatever the hell else they fought every night.

If Stiles had a kid like himself, he would have gone mad a long time ago, would have thrown him out, or eloped somewhere with sun and water and nothing to save people from. But no. Not his dad. His dad was something else. Something he probably didn't deserve, but would take anyway.

Stiles tried to fix his posture, pull himself up a bit, rest his elbow onto his pillow, to support his head. He was tired of always being laid down. He wanted to feel more awake, more present. But his body seemed heavier and his muscles were too weak to handle his fidgeting and need to always keep moving.

" Here, let me help," He didn't have the chance to see who it was, but the same arms from last night were effortlessly lifting him up, repositioning him, his head accidentally brushing against a toned chest that was probably cracked open, only weeks ago. Head accidentally resting there, just to listen to the heartbeat. Accidentally.

Once Stiles seemed comfortable enough with how he rested, those arms pulled away, feet taking a few steps back, because Derek didn't know what was too much yet. Didn't even know why he was allowed back in, but he was grateful regardless.

" What were you doing outside the house?" Stiles asked, eyes looking past Derek, not willing to wholeheartedly take him in quite yet. He felt it might shock his system right back into feeling the way it did. He'd get there eventually, just, not all at once.

" When you told me to leave last night, I- I just stayed out there, in case you needed anything, or, you know. Something happened."

" You smelled my anxiety, didn't you? That's why you stayed?" Stiles couldn't bear not seeing him anymore. Couldn't handle the thought of having him so close, and not being able to connect with him somehow.

" I guess. I mean. I did. Fuck, I suck at this." He had his hands rubbing at his eyes, frustration coming out of him in waves. Stiles smiled a little, already feeling the rage inside him dying down, the betrayal hurting a bit less, plastered together by something that resembled love. Or at least, what someday would be that.

" You really do, actually. You know what else you suck at? Letting people in. Letting them know what you need. Even if it's space. Or random sex for that matter. You could have told us, Derek. Told me. I mean, you can take all the time and space you need, but we need to know it's just that. You're not taken or d- **_dead_** , somewhere." That word felt heavy, tasted bitter on his tongue, he almost wasn't sure he'd be able to get it out at all. Derek grimaced, not at the thought of dying, but at the thought of leaving them to think he was dead. Derek knew how much death terrified Stiles. How loss just pushed him into a downward spiral and literally suffocated the breath out of him. Derek really couldn't tell you why he'd handled things the way he did.  

" I know. I know, I'm sorry." Derek looked into Stiles' eyes then because he needed him to believe it. Believe him. He needed him to trust him again, to rely on him like he used to.

" Yeah, I know you are." Stiles nodded, looking away, and onto all the meds on his nightstand, one of which was previously prescribed for Scott's asthma. That seemed like a lifetime ago. It probably was.

" Did it smell that bad for you last night?"

" It was probably worse for you. And your heartbeat. It was like.. all over the place."

" Yeah. It was a bad one, that."

" Was it… because of me?"

" Dude, if you expect me to add to your list of reasons why you should feel guilty for everything that's gone wrong in the world, then you've come to the wrong person. I'm not adding another nail to your coffin. And I've got to stop making death jokes, oh my God." Stiles hid behind his hands, embarrassed. Until something like a snort, or a spontaneous laugh, filled the air.

" Out of all the jokes I've ever told in front of you, you chose this one to laugh at?" Stiles asked, hands disregarded now because Derek was radiating with something so.. hopeful. So warm and comforting and just, nice. Really, really, nice.

" The first time it's been funny." Derek shrugged, laughter fading into a content smile.

" Excuse me? It's not my fault you have a shitty sense of humor."

" Yeah, yeah, yeah." Derek waved the subject away because Derek knew that Stiles was funny, had always been funny. And Stiles knew that Derek knew that. But he wouldn't be getting any sort of confirmation from him any time soon, just that if anyone could make Derek laugh when his heart was so heavy with fear and loneliness and sense of failure, it was Stiles. It would always be Stiles.

" Have you seen Scott? Or, heard anything from him, or whatever?" Stiles asked, after it'd gone silent. Comfortably so.

" Not really, I came here first, and have been here since." Derek shrugged, eyebrows furrowed, because he should have thought of that, of Scott. But that scent was driving him mad and he didn't know what to do with himself once he realized it was coming from here. From Stiles' room.

" I think you should go." Derek's eyes widened, shoulders hunched with the weight of rejection, the weight of **_I don't need you_** , **_you ruined it_** , **_you ruined me_**.

" Woah, I didn't mean it like that. I meant like, go check up on him. On everybody else too actually. They don't know you're back yet. It'll make things a bit better for them." Stiles quickly clarified, tracing the signs of distress, and how they slowly left Derek's features.

" I will. Just need to make sure you're okay. That, we're okay." Something clicked back into place, in Stiles' chest, somewhere near his heart. It almost hurt, but it didn't, not really.

" We're getting there." Stiles reassured, because he didn't know how to fall back into his normal pace with Derek, but he also didn't know how to push him away. He didn't really want to. Derek nodded, respectful, not nearly as disappointed as he'd been earlier.

" When you," Derek stopped, clearing his throat like the wrong thing was crawling up his airway, like the wrong thing was going to come out. Stiles stared at him, patient, curious but respectfully so.

" Last night. When you told me that- uh, you know, didn't want anything to do with me?" Derek's eyes moved away from his surprisingly trembling hands, meeting Stiles', who nodded, urging him on. Derek looked away again.

" I thought.. fuck, I thought this would be it. Thought you'd never let me in again and I'd just.. lose you. You know. Like, for good. Didn't really like the thought of that. Of, you know, letting you down. Which. I know I did. God, I know that, Stiles, but, I just, don't know how to do things sometimes. And I've got no one around me who's experienced who can like, guide me, or call me out when I'm fucking up, or just tell me how to be, a person. How to just.. be." Stiles had never seen Derek like that; so open and vulnerable and scared in the strongest sense of the word. And he realized that it had always been there, beneath that shell of a person he always conveyed, there was this person who'd lost everyone he'd once loved and was just terrified of it happening again. Maybe a bit guilty, that they'd left and he'd stayed, like he was somehow more deserving of life than them. He wasn't. He didn't even want to be.

" I was just pissed off, man. And also, maybe, scared, I don't know. But I don't think I'd ever cast you out like that. I wouldn't want to. Those were just, words. In the heat of the moment. Don't overthink it, I say stupid shit sometimes." Stiles shrugged, smiling but there was no real happiness to back it up, no sense of joy behind it. Derek nodded, convinced, or reassured, or just tired. Something. He didn't know.

" How did you even know what happened?" Stiles asked, all curious and innocent. Derek's breath hitched, heart skipping a beat or two, and he was thankful that Stiles didn't have werewolf senses, or else he would have heard it. Would have known what had hollowed out that pit in Derek's stomach. What had shaken him to his core, until he had his claws digging into his palms, to ground him somehow.

" The.. uh, smell."

" What smell? Like, my scent, you mean?" Derek shook his head at that, eyes falling shut, as he willed himself to focus on this. On Stiles and his voice and how he spoke to Derek like he mattered because to him, he did. How he still reeked of something awful but the closer that Derek got, the more he smelled like Stiles. Like paper and grass and fuel from his jeep and- and pack.

" Derek?" Now, he sounded worried. Like he'd done something wrong or said something wrong or triggered something that had never really gone away. Never would go away.

" The fire, Stiles. When you were in that ambulance that was driving you to the hospital, I could- I could smell something b- burning. But I didn't know it was you. It was overpowering your scent and I- I didn't know. I was.. sick, with the smell, and it was blurring all my senses. Every last one of them and I couldn't focus. Couldn't think. Couldn't **_breathe_**. For so long. And Peter was there, but Peter always smells like that. Like fire, but not this bad. It was, so bad, and I-"

" Derek. Oh my God. Derek, I'm so sorry. I- I didn't think. I didn't realize, that- oh fuck. I'm sorry. If you need to go, please, do. I don't know what to do to help you. I don't- I don't want to hurt you. To bring it all back." Stiles almost moved to get out of bed, to get closer to Derek and just- just hold him. Just be there. But something pulled by his back and he hissed without really meaning to and Derek turned back to look at him, eyes wide and frantic, as he came closer. He searched for the source of pain, but it was almost everywhere. He put a hand to Stiles' shoulder, taking some of the pain. Stiles' head fell against that hand, resting, feeling, dwelling in the sense of proximity, of how it'd feel to get to do that, all the time.

" That's why I didn't come before. Didn't visit you in the hospital, or. It wasn't because of the alpha pack, or even because of the healing process. I just, couldn't get myself out of it, Stiles. And I'm sorry. For that too."

Stiles took Derek's hand away from his shoulder, but he held it in his. He didn't want him to take any more pain. He'd already felt so much, taken so much shit from the world. He didn't deserve to feel any more of that.

" You don't have to apologize. God. I- I'm sorry there's nothing I can do to help with that, Derek. I'm sorry I had to put you through it again. But really, you can go home, until I'm better, and the burns have healed up and I've taken multiple showers."

" No, under all that, you still smell like Stiles. Being, close, helps. I can smell you better. Hear your heartbeat instead of- you know. Everything else. It helps." Derek smiled, grateful and content and a bit more.. certain.

" Okay, yeah. Then, yeah, get as close as you get. Want to get in bed with me? Because, you know, if it helps, I can't say no to that."

" There will be no such thing happening in my house!" Stiles' eyes widened, horrified, while Derek laughed and laughed until his eyes filled with tears of happiness, for once.

" Dad, are you spying on me? What the hell?"

" I don't need werewolf hearing to keep up with your hormones, Stiles. Now, keep it together, and keep it **_in_** your pants."

" Oh my God, dad, it was an innocent offer."

" Yeah, innocent my ass."

Derek continued to laugh, chest expanding every time something tugged at his heart and told him that he belonged. That if this was his piece of the world, if this was what he'd take from it, then it was more than enough. Better than anything he would have hoped for.

" Sorry about that. But seriously, Scott needs your help. Needs all our help, but, you know, I can't do much for now."

" It's okay. Don't worry. I'll go by his house today and see what I can do."

" Okay. Thank you." Derek nodded.

" Stiles, I-I don't really know how to do **_this_** either. I don't want you to, be disappointed, or like, have expectations that I can't really meet. Because there are all those variables, and all this shit that just, we can't. I can't. And I don't want you to," _Hate me for it_ was left unsaid, but Stiles knew. Stiles always knew.

" Yeah, I get it. I'm not that good with this either." Stiles shrugged, seemingly tired down by the conversation they'd had, and the emotions he'd so desperately tried to tame, to settle down. So Derek nodded, as if allowing him to fall asleep, to slip away. And he did.

There was no grand declaration of love. No heated makeout sessions filled with secretive confessions. No promises of happily ever afters or truces to never leave again. And that was okay. Stiles felt what he felt and so did Derek. And it didn't have to mean they were lovers, it didn't have to tick some sort of box where their story belonged.

Stiles wasn't really ready, and neither was Derek. And if it got too much, they'd want to cower away, to run and hide from themselves, from the other person too. So, they'd take it how they take it and they'd see where it went. And no one would need to feel any more or less than exactly what they felt. And if Derek's eyes flashed red every time someone got too close to Stiles, or if Stiles sometimes called Derek in the middle of the night just to hear his voice, to know he was still there, and that he'd come to him, if he really needed him to, then that was okay. Great even.


End file.
